


Honeymoon in Oz

by BaumsAway



Category: Oz - L. Frank Baum
Genre: Corporal Punishment, F/F, Light BDSM, major silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4139646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaumsAway/pseuds/BaumsAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorothy learns that seven nights with Ozma can make one weak. On and after their wedding night, the Queen subjects her bride to puns and punishment; Dorothy isn’t sure which is worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honeymoon in Oz

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Royal Wedding of Oz](https://archiveofourown.org/works/142192) by [biichan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biichan/pseuds/biichan). 



> In addition to the lovely "Royal Wedding," this story was inspired by the illustration "Princesses in Love" by UndeadPrincess (easy to find online), which is one of my all-time favorite pictures of anything. I am also indebted to L. Frank Baum and John R. Neill, who in their words and drawings created one of the sweetest F/F relationships in children's literature (in the early 1900s, no less).
> 
> N.B. This is *fantasy*. Voluntary transfer of power is very different from abuse. If you want to play hard, get everyone’s informed consent, and communicate before, during and afterward.

The royal apartment of the Ruler of Oz in the Emerald Palace is richly furnished, but not overly ornate. The rooms are smaller than one might expect, though not so small as to feel cramped. The designs on the bedspread, upholstery and curtains are simple though attractive. The overall effect is one of coziness rather than grandeur – and this is as it should be, for these are the Ruler’s private rooms, a sanctuary rather than a vehicle to impress. Except for servants, only the Queen and her chosen companion normally have leave to enter here.

At the time of this story, the suite was upholstered mainly in green fabric with gold trim, though in a few places the colors were reversed for contrast. Several small paintings were set off nicely by the cream-colored walls. The bedchamber was dominated by a gold and ivory four-poster with an oversized mattress. In the sitting room two large, comfortable armchairs, perfect for curling up with a good book, flanked a matching loveseat, perfect for curling up with a good friend.

From the loveseat now arose two creatures of surpassing beauty. Both appeared to be occupying the narrow but precious territory between girlhood and womanhood. One was of medium height, with a slender figure, straw-colored hair cropped to chin length, wide blue eyes, and a dusting of freckles on her tan cheeks and button nose. She wore a simple shift of a cornflower blue that matched her eyes; her feet were bare. Her companion was half a head taller, with a few more curves. She had classically perfect features, a peaches-and-cream complexion, and bright green eyes flecked with gold. Her hair was her crowning glory: chestnut brown with red and gold highlights, full-bodied and glossy, it fell in great waves past her shoulders. She was dressed in green satin slippers and a forest green gown with an Empire waist that set off her high bosom. She wore no jewelry save a wedding band, no distinguishing mark of office, but the scarlet poppies over her ears would have made her instantly recognizable to thousands of people who acknowledged her as Supreme Ruler and all but worshiped her for her beauty and benevolence. The blonde was equally well known and beloved for her sunny nature and her bravery.

The taller girl led the shorter one by the hand into the bedroom, then turned to face her and take her other hand as well.

“Dorothy Gale of Kansas, welcome to your new home,” she said in a sweet, low voice. “Are you ready to begin fulfilling your duties as Royal Consort of Oz?”

“Oh, Ozma, you know I am!” cried Dorothy. “This is the most magically marvelously wonderful day of my life! You know how much I’ve loved our ‘together time’ after dinner – the walks in the garden with your arm around me, the cuddles, the kisses. I always hated to say goodnight – and now I don’t have to! I’m so happy I could simply bust!”

“You’re busted enough for me already, dear,” smiled Ozma, fondling the area in question.

Dorothy considered playfully slapping Ozma’s hands away in retaliation for the rather coarse wordplay, but found she didn’t really want to. In truth Dorothy was grateful for the attention. She had been a bit self-conscious about her small dimensions, but Ozma had made it clear lately that she wasn’t bothered in the least.

“I’m so glad you like me the way I am,” Dorothy sighed. She reached for two locks of Ozma’s hair, wound them around her hands, and tugged gently but firmly until the ruby lips came down on hers.

Presently, as if in unspoken agreement, both girls found themselves edging toward the bed. One by one they sank into its softness, and with a wordless cry of joy Dorothy melted into the arms of her beloved.

***

In her red and white palace some miles to the south, Glinda the Good, ruler of the Quadlings and protector of Oz, was bending over her Great Book of Records, which summarized events worldwide the moment they happened. As she watched, two lines of text appeared in brilliant green, the signal for an occurrence in the Emerald City. As Glinda read the words, a gentle smile played upon her lips. She allowed herself a twinge of what might have been envy, but only for a moment. The visits from Ozma would no doubt be less frequent and less urgent now, but on the whole she was supremely happy that those two had come together. Leaving herself out of the equation, she could think of no one worthy of either of them, save the other.

***

Earlier, Ozma had apologized for being unable to give Dorothy a proper honeymoon. “But of course, dear, there are no grand hotels in Oz – only little inns where people would know us on sight and we would have no privacy to… be ourselves.”

“That’s all right, Ozma,” Dorothy hastened to reassure her. “Do you ’member that time, a year ago, when we took the Sawhorse and snuck off to see the country? When we lived off the land and slept curled up together? And finally admitted we both wanted to get married? It was like having part of our honeymoon in advance. And now we’ll have the other half. Don’t worry, Ozma dear – I’m as happy as a girl can be!”

***

Lying exhausted for the moment while Ozma slept, Dorothy marveled at her good fortune. She should have guessed that her amazing friend would be an amazing lover. Generous and demanding by turns, Ozma was not shy about asking for what she wanted but deft in guiding Dorothy to furnish it. And she certainly gave as good as she got. In either role, Ozma was definitely in charge, as befitted one born to rule. She had baby-soft skin and gentle though insistent fingers and mouth, but a rather hard palm when she chose to wield her authority.

Dorothy was grateful, too, for the years they’d spent as best friends. They had forged a bond on many levels – mind, heart, soul – and had attained a closeness that some married couples never achieved. It meant that even though a lot of what they did in bed was just plain fun, at its core was a kind of connection that made her feel their spirits had touched more closely than their bodies.

Ozma awoke and turned toward Dorothy with a determined look in her eyes. Dorothy sighed and resigned herself to her fate.

***

“When did you know?” Ozma asked as they lay quietly, their hunger sated for the moment.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Dorothy replied. “I knew before I met you… in fact, it was the moment I saw you.”

“Really?” Ozma’s eyes widened. “When I called up to you in the tower, and asked why Langwidere had locked you up?”

“Nope. It was before that, even. I was wishing I could get out of that little room, and I’d started daydreaming about a handsome prince who would ride up on his horse and rescue me. And all of a sudden, there you were, riding across the desert… not a handsome prince, but a beautiful princess. Not on a horse, but even more wonderful – in a chariot pulled by a great Lion and Tiger. It was better than any fairy tale.”

“And you… knew? Even then?”

“Ozma, I don’t know how or why… but somehow I knew I’d never in my life wanted anything as much as I wanted to be with you.”

Dorothy hadn’t expected it, but Ozma looked a bit surprised as well as pleased and deeply touched.

“And when did you know, Ozma? Bet it wasn’t as early as I did.”

“You lose, dear. Mm… I’ll have to think of an appropriate penalty.” Ozma’s eyes narrowed mischievously. “The fact is, I fell for you long before I met you.”

“You did? But how?”

“Don’t forget, you were a national hero. Everyone knew about Dorothy Gale of Kansas, the brave little girl who destroyed two wicked witches. I heard about you when I was still Tip. I found a picture of you on a crumpled sheet of newspaper that someone had lost or thrown away. I smoothed it out and hid it in a crack in the barn so old Mombi wouldn’t find it. I used to pull it out and look at it when Mombi was away, and wish I could meet you. But that was impossible – you’d gone back to Kansas, and lightning doesn’t strike twice.”

“That’s what they say, isn’t it? But it did for us.”

“Yes, it certainly did. Every day of my life, I thank Lurline that you came back.” Ozma’s face softened as she gazed at Dorothy, then broke out in a smile. “How about a bubble bath?”

***

Ozma gave Dorothy a hand out of the swimming-pool-sized tub and wrapped her in the biggest, thickest, softest towel she had ever seen or felt. It was like being hugged between the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger. Ozma rubbed her all over and put the towel aside.

“There. Now we’re all squeaky clean.” Ozma’s thumb and finger reached out, and Dorothy indeed gave a little squeak. “You look lovely this way, dear – all pink and white like a Valentine. And fresh as the first bloom of a rose. Too bad it won’t last.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to get you all hot and sweaty again.”

***

A shaft of morning sunlight penetrated the window of the bedchamber and illuminated the surface of the big four-poster, revealing a tangle of golden curls and ivory limbs.

Presently the tangle stirred, stretched, and separated into two beings. Dorothy propped herself up on one elbow to contemplate Ozma’s perfect body, then leaned over and planted a warm, soft kiss on the lips of her old friend and new spouse.

The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back, her shoulders pinned to the bed and Ozma’s nose an inch from hers.

“It’s a law of Oz, dear,” murmured the young Queen, “that no subject’s head may be higher than the Ruler’s.”

Dorothy laughed. “You can’t fool me, Ozma; you made up that law just now.”

“And what if I did?” Ozma’s eyes sparkled. “And what if I choose to repeal it before we leave this room? Don’t forget, dear, Oz is an absolute monarchy.”

“Hmmm.” Dorothy tried to keep from smiling, without much success. “I don’t know as I like the sound of that. You mean I have to do everything you tell me to?”

“Oh ho ho ho… You haven’t heard anything yet, dearest. I’m beginning to think you need more than an occasional reminder of who’s in charge. In charge of Oz, and in charge of you.”

***

Dorothy caught her breath as she stared at the object lying on the bed. It was about two feet long and made of narrow strips of suede in red, blue, yellow, and purple. At one end the strips were braided into what appeared to be a handle.

“Wh… where did you get that?”

“I made it myself, dear. I went to Jinjur’s house and asked her if I could have her old skirt, the one she wore when she tried to conquer Oz. It had four panels in the state colors, made of the finest sueded gump leather. You can’t get anything like it now; gumps are protected. I brought it here and cut and braided it myself. No one knows it exists but the two of us.”

“And what’s it for?”

“Think of it as an extension of my hand, dear. It’s for heightening your awareness of me, and for reminding you of who’s in charge around here. Mm… I think I’ll call it my per-sueder.” Dorothy flashed her a stormy look but said nothing. “Go on, feel it.”

Dorothy hesitated as if she’d been asked to pet a rattlesnake, but finally grasped the handle and drew the tails across the palm of her other hand. It was lighter than she’d expected, and much softer. How much damage could it do? Not much, she suspected. Maybe this obeying business would be fun after all.

***

Glinda, her work done for the evening, was catching up with the day’s events in the Great Book. After several items in other colors – blue for Munchkin country, brown for other fairy nations, black for the mortal world – a new line flashed bright green. Glinda’s eyebrows rose; her face flushed; her smile widened and she shook her head slightly. Then she placed her finger on the green text and murmured a charm she rarely found occasion to use. As quickly as it had appeared, the text vanished.

***

“Do you know, you’re the only person in years who’s seen me without my poppies? Except Jellia, of course; she does my hair.”

“Jellia Jamb?” Dorothy’s brow creased slightly. “Were you and she… did you ever… um…”

“State secret, dear.” The green eyes danced, then softened. “No, I don’t want to keep that kind of secret from you. We fooled around a bit, years ago. But she’s really not my type.”

“No? Why not?”

“Too submissive. Sure, I like to take charge, but she made it way too easy. She acted like she had no mind of her own. When she sensed I was in a… forceful mood, she assumed the position before I could tell her which one. She’s sassy enough when she talks with Jack and the Scarecrow, but with me she falls apart.”

“Mm… I can see how that would frustrate you. You’ve always encouraged me to be myself, and not to be afraid to speak up.”

“Yes, your backbone is one of your best qualities. Without it, you wouldn’t be the Dorothy I love.”

***

Crazy dreams drifted in and out, each one wilder than the last. Maybe it was the feast they’d had brought in that evening; Dorothy guessed she’d never know for sure.

The Patchwork Girl was by the bed, leaping from toe to toe.

“Exactly what is it that you girls do in here all night?” she demanded.

“Well, it’s kinda hard to explain, Scraps, seeing as how you’re not made like us…”

“Does it involve dancing, or turning cartwheels?”

Dorothy smiled. “Not really, though it does make me feel like doing those things.”

“Or swinging from the chandelier?”

“Well… only in a manner of speaking.”

“Then it can’t be much fun. I guess I’ll have to keep going my own way.”

“Yeah, you do that, Scraps. I’ll see you around.”

The next thing she knew, Ozma was standing by the bed, thunder on her face. Though clad only in two wisps of emerald silk, she was looking as imperious as Dorothy had ever seen her. She was holding a cowering Button-Bright by the ear; Dorothy knew firsthand how sharp those nails were. Oddly, Button-Bright looked shorter and chubbier than he should – about as young as he had been when Dorothy first met him on the road.

“This little imp has been spying on us,” Ozma said indignantly. “I found him hiding behind a curtain.”

Dorothy laughed. “Oh, Ozma, pay no attention – ”

“Dorothy, this is serious. We can’t have boys watching while we’re being girls together. Button-Bright, what did you mean by hiding in our room?”

“D-don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough, young man,” Ozma snapped. “Go put your little nose in the corner while we decide what to do with you.” Button-Bright, whimpering, obeyed.

“I think you need a good lesson with a hairbrush,” Ozma continued, her eyes flashing fire, “and consider yourself lucky if that’s all we do to you. Dorothy has a nice big one. I think it’s still in her old rooms; I’ll go see.” She stormed out.

The next thing Dorothy knew, Toto was on the bed, trying to pull the covers off her.

“Dorothy, Dorothy, wake up! You’ve got to help,” he begged. “Ozma has come apart.”

“Come apart? Whatever do you mean?”

“Gone to pieces, just like a Fuddle. And you’re the only one who can put her back together. You promised in your wedding vows that you’d do it if you had to – remember?”

“Like a Fuddle? Those jigsaw people? Oh, Toto, that’s just silly. Fairies and humans don’t come apart like that.”

“She really did – I swear it. Dorothy, you’ve got to wake up. Come and help right now, or I’ll sic the Woozy on you.”

Dorothy laughed and pulled the covers up over her head. “Toto, either you’re dreaming or I am. Go away and let me sleep.”

“Dorothy, wake up. Ozma’s in trouble.” The Woozy jumped on the bed and put his square front paws on Dorothy’s chest. She tried to shake him off, but he plunked his whole body down on top of her. He was heavier than he looked, she thought, and he was being a real pain.

“C’mon, get off,” she tried to shout, but it came out as a whisper. The Woozy was an annoying dead weight. Dorothy kept shaking and trying to budge him…

And all of a sudden her eyes opened, and it was Ozma, the real Ozma, on top of her, holding her in a death grip and shivering with fear.

Dorothy didn’t know quite what to do. Ozma appeared downright hysterical. If she hadn’t literally gone to pieces, she sure seemed to have done so emotionally.

“Ozma, Ozma, wake up,” Dorothy wailed. “You’re having a bad dream.”

As Ozma continued to writhe and cling to her, Dorothy weighed her options. She considered a slap on the cheek, but was reluctant to use force; who knew what troubled dreams her beloved was having? Finally she cradled Ozma’s face in her hands and kissed her lips gently but firmly. She gave repeated short kisses rather than one long one, so Ozma wouldn’t feel smothered.

It took several long moments, but as Dorothy, beside herself with concern, kept caressing her friend and willing Ozma to feel her love, the Queen began to respond.

“Dorothy… you’re still here,” she breathed. “Oh, thank Lurline.”

“Ozma, dearest, what’s the matter?”

“Oh, it was too horrible… They told me you left.”

“Left? Left you? Oh, never! Never in a million years.”

“Left me and left Oz. They told me you went back to Kansas.”

“Oh, no!” Dorothy held Ozma tightly in her arms and rocked her like a baby. “I would never, ever, ever leave you. And I’d surely never go back to Kansas. It’s true there’s no place like home, but Oz is my home now – has been ever since you let me bring Uncle Henry and Aunt Em. And even before that, I thought of Oz as my true home. I never had so many real friends before – the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman, and the dear old Cowardly Lion, and all the friends I’ve made since. And you, Ozma. Especially you. From the moment I saw you, I wanted you to be my destiny. And then somehow I knew you were.”

“Oh, my love,” whispered Ozma. “Keep telling me that. Don’t ever stop telling me. I may be stronger than mortals in some ways, but fairies have very human emotions. We can have bad dreams, just as you can. And this one seemed so real… it pierced me to the very heart. I wonder if, deep down, I’ve been afraid of losing you all along… as if having you was too good to be true, was more happiness than I deserved.”

“Oh, Ozma,” Dorothy countered. “Please don’t think that. Everyone deserves to be happy, don’t you think? And if being with me is what makes you happy, shouldn’t you be able to rest content in that? I sure know that being with you is what makes me happy. Why, I feel like the cow that jumped over the moon! I feel like Polychrome dancing on her rainbow.”

Dorothy paused for breath. “I s’pose I’m gushing. Really, I can’t help it. Guess I’m just a little dotty over you.”

“No, dear.” Ozma swallowed her tears and smiled. “You’re a little Dotty under me.”

At that Dorothy couldn’t resist a gentle three-fingered spat on the royal cheek, even though she suspected it would earn her some hard time across Ozma’s lap. “I think Professor Wogglebug was a bad influence on Your Highness. ’Pears to me the only thing you got from him was a love of bad puns.”

“Oh, he taught me a lot over the years, about the world and everything in it. He really did. But somehow, in all that time, he never told me about… this.” Dorothy yelped. “Or this.” Another yelp, one that perhaps only Toto could have heard. “Or especially… this.” Dorothy’s core melted; the Palace lights appeared to flare, then black out.

***

Standing naked in front of the triple mirror, Dorothy took inventory. Her lips were chapped; her nipples were sore; there were scratches on her back and – what was this? – welts on her bottom. Angry red welts. Not many, but they stung like heck.

Dorothy strode into the sitting room where her spouse appeared to be hiding behind the morning news. “Oz-MA?”

“Yes, dear?” replied the Ruler without lowering the paper.

“Looky here,” said Dorothy dryly. “I think you’ve got some ’splainin’ to do, honey.”

Ozma finally laid the paper aside and gave her attention to Dorothy, who turned around and presented her rear view for inspection.

“Ozma, I don’t remember much about last night – my head was somewhere on Cloud Nine. But I don’t think that soft suede thing could have done this.”

The Supreme Ruler of Oz looked sheepish. “It was a buggy whip,” she said. “You know the red wagon we hitch up to the Sawhorse when we go out driving? Well, it came with all the trimmings, including a whip. Strictly window dressing; the Sawhorse responds to voice commands and he wouldn’t feel a whip much anyway. But it’s fully functional, as I discovered last night. I guess I got a little carried away.”

“You sure did, sweetie,” said Dorothy. “How long do you s’pose these marks will last?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I have a lotion made from herbs that will heal those welts instantly.”

“Please don’t,” said Dorothy quickly. “I want to feel the sting as long as I can. It’ll help me remember last night, and remind me of you when you’re off on State business. You’ll just need to go easy on me until I heal.”

“Mm,” said Ozma. “I’m not sure I want to go easy on you.”

Their eyes met, and if Dorothy had been trying to think of a smart answer, it melted into nothingness. She realized there was nothing more she wanted or needed to say. Until that week, her life had been a wildly improbable fairy tale come true. Almost unbelievably, it had just gotten better.

“This is the seventh day of our marriage,” Ozma said. “I need to get back to my normal schedule soon, but I’ve postponed all my meetings until tomorrow. Today, all day, is just for us. Let’s make it something we’ll remember for a long time.”

***

The next morning, Dorothy awoke, alone, and found a note on her night table.

_My darling,_

_I’m sorry I had to run off, but you know I’ll be back. It will be hard to concentrate on State business today._

_Of material goods, I have all I could ever desire. I have power beyond most mortals’ imagining. But if I had to, I’d give it all up for you. I’d rather be a peasant girl with you than rule a country without you… my dearest Dorothy, Princess of Oz and Queen of my heart._

_Your Ozma_


End file.
